


Immune Systems for Assholes

by aruarudayo



Series: Seen This Before [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Gen, Google is not a good substitute for a doctor, Sick Fic, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-20
Updated: 2014-08-20
Packaged: 2018-02-13 22:53:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2168265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aruarudayo/pseuds/aruarudayo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sick Episode. One of them gets sick/injured and is stuck in bed for a while. The other takes care of him until he's well again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Immune Systems for Assholes

**Author's Note:**

> prompt from doxian@dreamwidth

Sound travels too well in small apartments, which, after living together in one for a while, Dirk and Dave know way too well. More than once, when strifing didn’t work, the two of them have passive-aggressively tried to see who could play their music louder. Besides that, there is absolutely no privacy, which is how Dave figured out that Dirk swung for the other team. He avoided Dirk’s room for a while after that, lest he walk in on something x-rated. 

To add to this, both of them were light sleepers, having had a Strider upbringing, so not even the smallest of noises would go unnoticed. 

A creak in the hallway wakes Dave one night, and his hand instinctually goes to the sword next to his bed. This wouldn’t be the first time his brother tried to ambush him while he was asleep. He relaxes slightly when he hears the bathroom door open and light filters under his door. 

Then he hears the distinct sound of Dirk vomiting.

He rushes out of his bedroom but skips to a stop before entering the bathroom; he has no idea what to do to help Dirk when he’s sick. Striders were pretty good about staying healthy, so his experience with sick people was near none. 

As he hovers near the door, wringing his hands together, Dirk is bent over the toilet, trying hard to steady his breathing after throwing up. The nausea continues to make his head spin, and he throws up again, prompting Dave to finally come closer and rub awkward circles on his back. 

After emptying the contents of his stomach, Dirk stumbles to his feet and subsequently stumbles into Dave. 

“Dude, you, uh, don’t look so good,” Dave says lamely.

“Wow, I definitely did not notice that.” Dirk wants to put more blatant sarcasm into his tone, but Dave’s shoulder is surprisingly comfy and he may just fall asleep right there and then.

“Dirk, you’re really warm. You should be in bed.” Dirk doesn’t move. Dave shakes him a little, perhaps a little too hard because he nearly falls off his shoulder. No response.

With a sigh, Dave slings one of Dirk’s arms over his shoulder and drags him back to his room. He settles his nearly unconscious brother into bed and piles a few extra blankets on him for good measure. Then he leaves to google “How to take care of sick people.”

 

Dirk wakes up feeling like his mouth is full of cotton—incredibly nasty tasting cotton. He vaguely remembers getting sick last night and almost gets sick again thinking about it.

For the past few days, he’d been feeling a little run down, but he figured it was normal since he was working fairly hard on various projects. He can feel the heat behind his eyes though and the overall heavy feeling that signifies he is indeed sick.

Then again, both those symptoms can be explained by the layers of blankets covering him. When did those get there? Feeling way too warm and stuffy, Dirk tries to push them off, but an unfamiliar weakness comes over his body until, a few moments later, he’s hot and sweating and still covered in blankets.

The weight of the blankets presses uncomfortably down on his chest as he lies helplessly. His muddled head finally comes to the conclusion that this is Dave’s fault as the smell of something less than pleasant emanates from the kitchen. He wants to get up to take any and all kitchen supplies from his brother because _Dave can’t cook_ , but alas, he’s stuck under a gross pile of blankets. He didn’t even know they had this many blankets in the apartment. 

Eventually, Dave comes into the room with a bowl of…something. It’s not soup, because there isn’t any sort of liquid in the bowl. Dirk’s stomach does a rather unhappy flip and stomach acid threatens to come up his throat just looking at it.

He’s more tired than hungry as it is, any semblance of an appetite chased away by Dave’s cooking. He’s tempted to ignore the thing altogether, eyes slipping closed again, but Dave stops him.

“You should eat something,” he says, gesturing at the bowl. 

Dirk sighs. “What is it?” His voice is more breathy than usual, like it’s half there. Dirk supposes it mirrors his current state of mind; his eyelids feel heavier with each passing minute.

“Um, leftovers. I think I left them in the microwave for too long, though.”

Dirk becomes a little more alert at that. “How did you—You know what? I’m not going to ask. And I’m not eating that.”

“Oh, come on. Your brother is here trying to take care of you and you’re turning him down. I’m hurt.”

“You don’t have to do anything. Just leave me alone so I can sleep this off.” He punctuates his sentence by turning his head away from Dave and closing his eyes. 

Dave grimaces. “You should have something. And you still have a fever.”

Dirk doesn’t answer, hoping that his brother will give up soon enough. 

“You sure you don’t want anything?”

“No, Dave,” Dirk replies, before thinking better of it. “Actually, water would be good. And fewer blankets.”

Dave can do that, at least. He takes off one of the blankets—and only after prompting from Dirk, a few more—and goes to the kitchen for a glass. 

Of course, when he comes back, he manages to trip over all the wires in the room, dumping the water on Dirk’s face. 

Dirk can feel an ache settling over his body—pain from his stomach from being empty and sick, and a pain in his temples from his brother’s incompetence. 

“Sorry, bro,” Dave squeaks with a small smile. Under any other circumstances, he would probably be laughing outright, but dumping water on sick people isn’t cool by any standards. Still, his brother looks too similar to a drowned rat to not be funny.

Dirk chooses that moment to throw up onto Dave’s shoes. 

After a series of disgusted shouts—Dave—and pained moans—Dirk—the two of them silently agree that Dave probably can’t be trusted to take care of a sick person. As soon as they’re cleaned up, Dave gets Roxy on the phone and absconds.

(A week or two later, after Dirk’s recovered, Dave discovers that whatever his brother had was contagious. Dirk calls Roxy again, not because he can’t take care of his brother but because he figures Dave should get the same treatment. Roxy somehow remains healthy throughout the entire ordeal.)


End file.
